


Mine to Share

by AngelPair



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom England, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Restraints, Rough Sex, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeur America, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2626805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelPair/pseuds/AngelPair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England and America aren't dating, but that's not stopping America from acting far too possessive, something England does not appreciate. France helpfully develops a ridiculous (but potentially successful) plan, one that England is sure satisfies the Frenchman's own desires more than it really helps anyone else. And poor Canada is dragged along too. France/England/Canada threesome, with Voyeur!Possessive!America. Two-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is France/England/Canada
> 
> Chapter 1 is a sort of introduction, chapter 2 holds all the smut!
> 
> I'm not planning on uploading this one to ff.net at all, so enjoy this little AO3 exclusive! :D
> 
> Content warning: 
> 
> -England uses magic to knock America unconscious/weaken him (since he has super-strength and stuff), so if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to leave!
> 
> -America doesn't consent to watching the threesome at any point

England sighed in relief, quickly gathering his papers as Germany announced the meeting closed for the day. He stood, glancing around the meeting hall and fighting a yawn as he tried to locate America, who he assumed had rushed out of the meeting room the second they had been released.

Turning to search out in the hallway, England jumped when he felt a hand unexpectedly land on his shoulder. He frowned in confusion as he glanced behind himself.

“Russia?” he questioned, surprised (and a little suspicious) that the nation had approached him. The two rarely talked to each other without their bosses' encouragement.

“Hello, England,” Russia greeted with a smile – not a creepy or threatening one, England noted with relief. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes. I have a few questions to ask about your presentation today,” Russia questioned hopefully.

England paused for a moment, still surprised that Russia was asking to talk to him. He was happy that someone had taken interest in his presentation, and he would usually be more than willing have a discussion about it, but his mind was on America and his recent behaviour. “Yes, I'm sure I have a little while to spare,” he finally replied, “I'm supposed to be meeting with America, but he can wait a few more minutes.”

Russia seemed pleased with the response, more used to nations avoiding him that willingly conversing with him. “I'm glad,” he smiled, “Shall we leave?” he asked, indicating to the door.

“Yes, we can talk on the way out,” England agreed, not wanting to keep America waiting too long (even if he was annoyed that he had been abandoned in the meeting hall again). He left the room at Russia's side, hoping that America would be waiting outside for him and not in the hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

America froze mid-step and groaned after exiting the front doors of the building, swearing under his breath.

Canada, who has been walking alongside, looked to him in confusion. “What's wrong?” he asked, so quietly that America barely heard him.

“I forgot to wait for England again, he's probably gonna throw a tantrum,” America whined, “I should go find him,” he sighed, turning to look back through the glass doors of the building. As he did so, however, he froze, finding himself confronted with the image of Russia (of all the nations) walking alongside England, both countries wearing much too friendly (and uncharacteristic) smiles as they talked.

America almost growled as he processed this. He and England weren't exactly dating, and he wasn't even sure if the Brit returned the love he'd kept a secret for the past few years, but he knew he at least had a chance with England, and he was _not_ willing to lose his potential partner before he even got the chance to ask – especially not to _Russia,_ a nation he was known not to be fond of.

Before he stormed down the corridor to confront the nations, however, he felt a hand grab his arm, and he turned in annoyance to see his usually quiet brother glaring openly at him.

“America, he is going to end up hating you if you do this every time he tries to speak to someone else,” the Canadian lectured, trying to tug America away from the doors slightly.

“Hate me? For protecting him from Russia? I doubt it,” America huffed.

Canada sighed. “He doesn't exactly look like he needs protecting right now, and I don't know about Russia, but I don't think Spain, Romania or China were any threat to his physical safety,” he pointed out, in reference to the week's earlier events. America hadn't quite been acting the same since a fortnight prior, when Prussia had decided it would be funny to spread a rumour that England had drunkenly slept with Denmark on one of their “nights out”. An awkward confrontation between the angered American and the confused Nordic had taken place on the fist meeting of the following week, which had continued until England had stormed out of the meeting hall in embarrassment. It wasn't until the end of the week that England had forgiven America, although that hadn't been until after a thirty minute lecture about America not believing everything he heard, especially when that information came from Prussia.

America reasoned that if England had been embarrassed by his confrontation with Denmark, he probably wouldn't be much more happy about him interrupting his conversation with Russia for similar reasons. “Fine,” he huffed, easily ripping his arm out of Canada's grip and storming over to a nearby bench, “but I'm keeping my eye on them,” he glared through the glass doors of the meeting venue and settled down, crossing his arms angrily, “And if it looks like any flirting is going on, I wont just be sitting here doing nothing!”

“Of course,” Canada sighed, sitting down beside his brother.

  

* * *

 

 

England sighed wearily and ran a hand through his hair, giving an apologetic smile to the Russian nation accompanying him.

“I better go and see to him,” he indicated through the doors to where America was visible, clearing fuming on a nearby bench, his worried (and slightly irritated) brother sat beside him.

Russia nodded, having been watching the encounter between the two North Americans out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't heard what had been said, but he was more than aware of what the discussion had been about.

“Not a problem, we can continue the conversation later,” he said, easily hiding the amusement he felt at so easily angering the usually cheery American, even if it wasn't intended.

“Right, I'll see you later,” England nodded goodbye to Russia and turned, leaving hurriedly. He didn't get far, however, before bumping into another attention-demanding nation, one he was much less pleased to see.

“Good evening!” France purred in his ear. England had no time to reply before there was a hand round his waist, and another round his shoulder, leading him not to the building's exit but down another corridor, out of the view of the touchy American, who was currently distracted by his one-sided glaring contest with the seemingly unaware Russian.

Momentarily stunned, England allowed himself to be led, though he ripped himself from his French enemy's grip as soon as he came to his senses, whirling round to face the man.

“What on earth do _you_ want? America is waiting for me,” he hissed, currently lacking the patience to deal with the infuriating Frenchman.

“Well, we have a very important discussion to have!” France exclaimed happily, as if a talk with an angered Brit was a pleasant way to end a meeting.

England rolled his eyes, too exhausted to argue back. “Fine, talk, so I can leave,” he grunted, hoping America would wait and not come looking for him. If he decided to launch himself into an argument with Russia, he might not notice England's absence anyway.

“It's about your little American boyfriend,” France started, gaining him an unimpressed look from England. Not getting the rise he had been hoping for, France continued.

“I see he has been getting rather...restless...lately, as I'm sure you've noticed yourself,”

“I'm sure everyone's noticed,” England huffed, crossing his arms, “Though I don't see how it concerns you in the slightest,”

“Of course it concerns me, I have you to worry about,” France cooed, reaching a hand towards England's cheek. The hand was quickly slapped away by a disgruntled Brit before any contact could be made, and France laughed before continuing, “You seem to be terribly stressed over the issue, and I don't want you to get sick - your immune system has never been strong,”

England sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, making it clear that France was not going to prompt an angered reaction from him with his attempted insults, even when “It's your poor cooking and diet if you ask me,” was mumbled under the Frenchman's breath.

“Well, you have no need to worry, It'll blow over soon,” England said shortly, turning to leave.

“You know he loves you, right?” France asked England's turned back.

England snorted, “I don't think so, Frog, there'll be political reasoning behind this behaviour - there always is,”

France sighed. “You know that's not true – you love him too, do you not?”

England didn't bother to answer the French nation, instead walking away silently. He was too tired for a fight. It was true, he did love America, and he and France both knew it, but it was a topic England was not willing to discuss, another fact France knew well.

“I have a plan! One I'm sure you'll love! We can discuss it at the meeting tomorrow!” France yelled to the retreating nation, who again made no effort to reply.

France smirked to himself, certain England would be angry upon hearing his suggestion, but certain that he would give in the end, and, more importantly, certain that it would work.

 

* * *

 

 

England groaned, knowing exactly who had joined him when he heard the chair opposite his scrape across the linoleum floor of the small café he had chosen to eat lunch in.

France had spent the entire meeting staring across the table at him, looking excited and devious, ensuring that England remembered about the promised “plan” he wished to discuss. The nation had even sent a note asking England to wait for him at lunch time, a request that England had, of course, ignored, instead making for the nearest café (alone) as quickly as they had been dismissed for a lunch break.

Naturally, France had tracked him down, and upon looking up, it appeared he had also dragged along a confused looking Canada, who sat down next to France, smiling sheepishly at England. The nation was obviously aware of the Brit's preference to drink his tea in peace.

“I suppose this about your plan, then,” England sighed, putting down his tea.

“Of course, of course, there's so much to share!” France exclaimed, his eyes sparkling in a way that both England and Canada were aware meant nothing good was coming.

“Plan?” Canada questioned warily, not sure if he wanted to hear anything France had to say whilst he was wearing that expression.

“Yes, a plan! I'm sure you've noticed America's behaviour over the past week,” France started, and Canada nodded, now curious. “Well, I've come up with a great plan to rid of his sudden possessiveness, and to get him to confess his love to England!” France said excitedly, causing England to choke on a mouthful of his sandwich.

“I told you yesterday, git, he has no feelings for me,” England spluttered once his airway was again clear.

“A-actually, he does...he told me,” Canada put in quietly, reluctant to draw the angered nation's attention to himself.

England snorted, though he was more willing to believe the Canadian than the Frenchman.

“Yes, yes, I'm sure he does,” he waved a hand dismissively, “Now, tell me about this plan so I can reject it and return to the meeting,”

France grinned, knowing that that was England-speak for “I need your help and will consider your idea”.

“Well, to start with, we drug America to weaken -” France was cut off as England abruptly stood, turning to leave the café.

“Well, that's enough of that plan, I'll see you both back at the meeting,” he said shortly, walking away from the table quickly.

France looked to Canada dejectedly, only to find the nation looking equally unimpressed, and instead of staying to listen to the younger nation's scolding, he jumped up from the table and rushed into the streets after the Brit.

“Wait, you have to at least listen to the whole plan before you leave me!” he yelled once he had almost caught up to the Brit.

England sighed when he noticed the scene that was being made, and stopped walking walking, allowing France, and the further behind Canadian, to catch up with him.

“Fine, I listen to your plan once, and then you don't pester me about it if I refuse to go along with it, okay?”

“Of course!” France nodded enthusiastically, though he had no intention of keeping that promise.

“And it better not be anything lewd,” England warned.

“Ah...well, just wait until you've heard the whole plan,” France grinned sheepishly, and England rolled his eyes.

“Of course it's something lewd, why did I even suggest otherwise...” England muttered under his breath as France began excitedly reciting his plan.

“Well, after we drug him – he has all that strength we need to temporarily rid him of, and we need him to be unconscious for a while too – we tie him to a chair in his hotel room,”

“Eh?”

“Then, we take England, strip him down in the bathroom, and you, Canada, wait with our little Brit until America awakens,”

“Bloody hell,”

“And once America is awake, we take England out – America will start to enjoy himself straight away, I'm sure he's wanted for the longest time to see you naked,”

“This is getting really ridiculous, France,”

“And then us three all have some fun together whilst America has to watch - he will soon realise the benefits to sharing you and will surely have the confidence to confess to you afterwards!”

“That is absolutely not happening” England stated as he glared at France.

“I don't think that is a good idea at all...” Canada added.

“Trust me, this will work, you both want to help America return to his usual self, yes?”

“I-I guess...”

“Obviously, but not through a plan like that, Frog!”

“Ah, Canada, I knew you'd understand! Now, England, you can think about it overnight, and I will come and find you tomorrow! I'm going back to the meeting now, I will see you later!” France hurried away, leaving a stunned England standing frozen on the street.

“I can't believe...he would even suggest...” England trailed off in shock.

Canada looked to the Brit. “Um, I'm sure this isn't what you want to hear, but knowing America, I think it might work, even if it is a little unconventional...” Canada trailed off, looking embarrassed.

England turned his stare to Canada, too stunned by Canada's agreement to be angry. “Right...well, I think we should head back to the meeting before we're late,” he said, opting to act as if the entire lunch incident had never happened.

Canada nodded, and followed after the departing Brit.

 

* * *

  

England did not sleep well that night. Despite attempts to ignore that any conversation with France had ever taken place, England couldn't help but think over the Frenchman's plan. It was, as Canada said, unconventional, but also could work, as much as he hated to admit it.

America tended to act in an incredibly childish manner at times, and witnessing the event Francis planned would likely shock him out of his possessive attitude, and teach him that “sharing” (as France put it, not that England was happy with France talking about him as if he were an object) could be a “good” thing too – assuming America actually enjoyed watching and wasn't just angry, which he probably would be if it turned out France and Canada were both wrong and he didn't actually like England at all.

He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. Really, if he thought about it, there was nothing too bad about the plan for him. If it worked, and if France and Canada were correct in saying that America liked him, then the possessiveness would stop. And although he and France didn't get on well, they didn't find each other unattractive, and it wasn't uncommon for them to end up sleeping together, assuming neither of them were in external relationships (enemies with benefits, England called it, although France insisted it was something much more). America watching would likely be embarrassing, although England was ashamed to admit that such a thought wasn't exactly a turn off. And as long as Canada was actually willing to help, England didn't see anything wrong with his involvement either.

England sighed again, this time in defeat rather than distress. He would find the annoying Frenchman at tomorrow's meeting and agree to the stupid plan, on the condition that he use his own magic on America, rather than some dodgy human drug. But if France did any gloating, the deal would be off immediately.

 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is out so late – I meant to have it done ages ago, but a lot of stuff happened (including two unexpected NABs, a useless guidance teacher who should not be handling any UCAS applications, my laptop breaking and being sent away for repairs, the business that is Christmas, and, most distractingly, one of my beloved rats dying).
> 
> But you're not here to read my life story, you're here to read fanfiction, so please enjoy the second and last chapter of Mine to Share!

“Frog,” England greeted with a glare as he sat himself down next to his French nemesis. Usually, unless there was a seating plan or he had something very important to discuss with the nation, England would try to sit as far away from France as possible during meetings. However, wanting to have a peaceful, frog-free lunch break, England decided that during the meeting would be the best time to discuss France's “plan”.

“England? Sitting next to me willingly? That means there must be good news for me to hear!” France grinned excitedly as he turned to face the Brit.

England glared at the wall, refusing to make any eye contact with the Frenchman. France was already acting cocky and England hadn't even said anything yet. “I agree to your plan,” he eventually huffed, folding his arms and refusing to look at France's gleeful face, “But there is one condition,” he added before France got the opportunity to speak.

“Wonderful! I'm glad you saw sense! Now, what is this condition?” France asked, hoping it wouldn't be anything that would ruin his fun too much.

“I don't want you using any sort of drug on America,” England demanded, “I'll use my magic, I know a spell that will knock him out for a while, then leave him too drowsy to use his strength for half an hour or so after he wakes up,”

France considered this and nodded. “If you think that is the safer option, then that is fine. I'll trust you not to mess it up too badly,” France winked, and England glared back. “How about straight after the meeting, you convince America to go back to your room with you. I'll leave a little early with Canada, and we'll be waiting for you there,”

England nodded, attention distracted by America himself, who was glaring dangerously at France from across the room, “That will be fine, but no more talking to me now, the meeting is starting,” England muttered, not wanting France attacked before the plan could be carried out. Being honest with himself, England knew he was going to have difficulty concentrating on the meeting at all, slightly nervous about what was to come.

 

* * *

 

Despite the unpleasant start to the meeting, which had seen England sitting with France as opposed to him, the meeting had gone quite nicely for America. Rather than complaining about being dragged away for food at lunch time, England had willingly gone with him to McDonald's, and the Brit had even stuttered out an embarrassed invite to dinner. England had always acted like he was completely unwilling to be in the America's presence (even though America knew it was an act), so the tall blond was excited to see his crush take some sort of initiative. England had located him directly after the meeting, muttering something about forgetting his wallet in his room, and so the two had taken a five minute detour back to the hotel. By this point, America was becoming slightly suspicious of England's awkward behaviour, and as soon as he stepped in the door of England's hotel room, the Brit began mumbling under his breath, making weird hand gestures.

“Um, England, are you okay?” America asked, staring in confusion at his ex-caretaker, who seemed to be in some sort of trance.

England didn't respond, and worried, America approached him cautiously. He soon jumped back, however, when England's hands started to glow.

“W-what the hell?” he stuttered, not sure whether to be worried for England (who at this very moment could be possessed by a demon, or worse, a ghost) or himself. He instead ended up confused, as he realised not only was he struggling to think properly, he was also struggling to support his body. Groaning, he collapsed against the door, sliding to the floor. The last thing he saw before he was forced to shut the world out was the worried frown of his British crush, aimed directly at his crumpled form.

 

* * *

 

 

England chewed his lip nervously as he watched Canada setting America on a chair, which he then awkwardly shuffled round to face the room's large double bed.

“He will be fine, England,” France sighed. The Brit had done nothing but fret for the past 15 minutes. “Now please get over here already so I can prepare you before he wakes up,”

England huffed, forcing himself to look away from the American, and headed over to where France was standing, a plastic carrier bag in hand.

“Good, now, clothes off,” France gestured to England's outfit before absent mindedly rummaging through the bag.

England was taken aback only for a moment before he growled. “Can't I get changed in the bathroom?”

“I do not see the point, I will be stripping you soon anyway, so off with what you're wearing,”

Grumbling, England unwillingly removed his meeting clothes, blushing and trying to cover himself once the clothes were off.

“Good, now...” France trailed off, pulling a large button up shirt out of the bag.

England frowned. “France, that is _far_ too big for me,”

“Of course it is, a fitting shirt wouldn't be cute enough, if America sees you in this, he will be able to imagine you wearing his own clothes,” France stated simply.

England's cheeks reddened further, and grabbed the shirt from France, pulling it on and buttoning. It easily reached his mid-thighs, and England hated to admit even to himself that he too was imaging wearing America's clothes.

“The rest of the outfit, please,” England requested shortly, pushing away his thoughts and holding out his hand.

“That is the outfit,” France smirked, balling up the carrier bag and throwing it across the room. He ignored England's angry muttering, dodged the fist thrown his way, and turned to the Canadian who had just finished tying the American to a chair. “Please take England into the bathroom,” he requested, noticing the American beginning to stir, “We do not want England to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up, so come out on my command,” he said, shoving the English nation towards the Canadian.

England sighed, straightening himself up and marching into the bathroom of his own accord, Canada following close behind.

With the two nations out of sight, France turned back to America, who was beginning to stir. 

 

* * *

 

 

England paced around the bathroom nervously and he listened to America's drowsy mumbles from the next room. As far as he could tell, America was nothing but confused, and France was telling him to sit tight because there was a surprise coming.

“Um...England,” Canada spoke up softly, catching the Brit's attention. To England's surprise, the boy looked as nervous as he felt himself. “Um...France wanted us to make an impact as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom, so please don't get angry at me but...” Canada trailed off, raising up a plastic bag of his own, which England hadn't noticed before. He handed the bag to England, who opened it curiously and peered inside. His eyes widened slightly before he snarled.

“That slimy frog, this has nothing to do with making an impact, this is for his own benefit,” he growled, tipping the bag upside down and letting a pair of metal handcuffs fall out.

“U-um, if you could just t-turn round,” Canada stuttered a little nervously, bending to pick up the handcuffs of the floor and looking to England hopefully. He wanted France's plan to be successful, even if some things were a little embarrassing.

“Can I...at least have my hands in front of me,” England mumbled embarrassed, worried the standard behind-the-back position would quickly become uncomfortable.

Canada nodded and sighed in relief, glad that no argument was taking place, and after a minute fiddling with the restraints (he wasn't exactly used to using this sort of thing) he managed to cuff England's hands in front of him.

“All right, I think it is time for your surprise,” both nations heard France say from the other room, a little louder than he had previously been speaking.

Taking is as a cue to come out, Canada gently grasped England's upper arm and pulled him out of the bathroom, a little quicker than he had intended to due to his nerves. England stumbled slightly behind him, and Canada mumbled out an apology.

America, who had previously been confused, focused in on the handcuffed and half nude England as soon as he was pulled into the room, first appearing speechless, then lustful, and finally, noticing that England was in Canada's hands, possessive and angry.

“Wha' the fuck are you doing wi' Engl'nd,” America slurred, failing to appear as angry as he wanted thanks to his drowsy state. “Let h'm go, he's not yours,” he growled.

“But America, he _wants_ to play with us, right England?” France pulled the Brit away from Canada and swung him onto the bed, crawling on top of the nation, who had landed on his back.

“Y-yes,” England stuttered, not surprised by the man handling, but a little uncomfortable with the way the shirt was riding up his legs. He wriggled a little, trying to force the shirt back down.

“But don't worry, America, you wont be left out of the fun all together,” France grinned.

America, who had previously been glaring at France, fully intent to smash the blond's face in as soon as he was able, looked confused at the comment.

“I left your trousers unzipped for a reason, and if you try to move, you will see that you have been tied so that you may reach your privates,” France winked pervertedly, and America growled.

“Asshole, 'm not gonna want t' do that!,” the drowsy nation struggled to force his words out, “Not wi' you all o'er England! Get off him 'n' untie me, or there'll be fucking hell to pay when I get my strength back!”

France tutted, “No need to act so threatening, I promise you will enjoy this!” France sat up suddenly, and lifted the English nation into his lap.

“I swear 'm gonna kill you France! England, get off him! Punch him in the balls and get over here 'n' untie me!” America demanded, but England only shot him an apologetic look as he allowed France to hold him.

“England is not going to punch me in the balls and help you because England is here willingly. We're going to teach you a little lesson about sharing, so sit nicely” France chided.

“A lesson? Fuck that! You put 'im down right now 'nd -” America continued with his rant, which France opted to ignore as he beckoned Canada over.

Canada joined France on the bed, and America stopped his rant when France turned to fully face him, England still on his lap with his legs splayed. The Englishman blushed, looking away and refusing to meet the now silent American's eyes, incredibly embarrassed (though a little turned on) at being on display, particularly as France pulled the shirt up, revealing areas he never thought America would see (not that he didn't _want_ America to see).

“See, I told you this would be good for you too,” France hummed softly to the American, resting his head on the Brit's shoulder as he gently took the nation's cock in his hand. England whined and bit his lip as France began to slow pump him, his penis gradually hardening in the Frenchman's grip. “Ah, England is a noisy one in bed if I remember correctly, so you should enjoy yourself even more,” France winked at the still speechless American over England's shoulder, though winced when an embarrassed England angrily twisted to elbow his side.

“I think it's time to move on,” France nodded to Canada, who reached over and led England off the Frenchman's lap. He gently laid the Brit on his back, giving America a horizontal view of his body.

“Ah, you're a little hard too, America,” France pointed out nonchalantly as he crawled around the Brit and stopped by his head. Pulling his trousers down to his knees, France retrieved his own half hard cock, wanting to bring himself to full hardness before entering England's mouth.

Canada meanwhile continued to play with England's penis, causing the the Brit, to his own embarrassment, to whimper softly.

Too caught up in the sight of the man he loved, red faced and exposed, America barely noticed France's comment, his anger quickly being replaced by his lust. He barely even noticed the people around his England, easily imagining himself to be carrying out their actions.

England looked up, distracted from Canada's actions as he felt France rubbing his cock along his cheek, clearly indicating to England what was to come. England was distracted again as he heard Canada ask if it was time to prepare him, the Canadian looking a little nervous, but aroused regardless. He wasn't touching himself yet, but like America, was noticeably hard.

“Yes, turn him over,” France moved away as England crawled onto his knees of his own accord, not wishing for any more man handling. The position was a little awkward, the elliptic cuffs forcing him to turn his hands outwards, and he eventually lowered himself onto his elbows, which despite the added embarrassment of having his butt in the air, was much more comfortable. He was panting slightly by now, a sign of his own intense arousal.

It was as Canada, who had produced a small tube of lube from his pocket, started to prepare England's hole, and England whimpered loudly, that America finally found himself reaching for his own cock, the position a little difficult due to his bonds, but possible thanks to Canada's efforts in tying him.

Other than England's whimpers and moans, and France's groans, the room was silent, any protest or angry remark America wished to make dying before leaving his lips as he watched his English crush riving and whimpering as he was fingered, crying out louder than America expected when his prostate was hit. France had been right when he said England was loud in bed. He wanted to call his brother off of his crush (and France too, although that effort would probably be wasted) but he couldn't bring himself to stop the show. He wanted the image of England, half naked, flushed and horny, wriggling on a bed on his knees, in his mind forever. With just his own hand, America felt he had almost reached completion from the image, and so forced himself to move his hand away, wanting to enjoy the whole show before he came.

England gave a small whine as his mouth was opened, and France slid his cock in slowly, as far as he could without causing England too much discomfort, giving an experimental thrust into England's mouth. Setting up a slow pace at first, France gradually increased his speed as England got used to the sensation of his mouth being filled, and even began to respond, sucking and licking at France's cock.

Not wanting to be left behind, and feeling he had stretched England enough, Canada freed himself from his own clothes. “I'm about to enter,” he murmured to England, not wanting to take the nation by surprise, especially when he had France's cock in his mouth. England nodded in confirmation around the cock, and groaned as Canada slowly pushed himself into his now-slick hole. The Canadian, as gentle as he managed to be at first, quickly lost control, his pace gradually quickening until he was pounding into England at a relatively fast pace, causing the Brit to moan loudly.

France, spurred on by the vibrations around his cock, began to push himself a little further into England's mouth with each thrust, the (more experienced than he would like to admit) Englishman managing not to gag, and even swallowing the cock every few thrusts. He soon felt France's hands fist in his hair, the Frenchman no longer paying full attention to his actions, but England didn't complain about the pain as he felt Canada, who England was thankful had was fucking him so roughly (as that is how England preferred it) hit his prostrate. England cried out loudly, his cry turning into a long moan, and out of the corner of the eye he saw that America had again returned to pumping himself. England almost wished he had the decency to be more embarrassed than he was turned on, but he was too lost in his pleasure, the thought of America watching him only heightening the sensation of his other pleasures.

Even with the discomfort of the cock in his mouth, England knew he couldn't last much longer with Canada roughly battering his prostate, and he eventually accepted his fate as the one who would come first out of the four. He cried out and moaned around France's cock as he released all over his stomach and the bed sheets below him, panting and whimpering as his orgasm ended.

France came next, having been stimulated for longer than Canada, and he released into England's mouth, hands painfully tugging at England's hair as he did so. He pulled out with a sigh of relief, letting England's front half collapse onto the bed. A small dribble of semen found its way out of England's mouth, and France wiped it away for the drowsy Brit.

It was the image of come running out of England's mouth that set America off, and gritting his teeth, he hissed as he came into his hand, wiping himself off on his trousers without a care. He still didn't have all of his strength back, so he sat still, enjoying the image of the exhausted Brit, lying on the bed with red cheeks and lidded eyes.

Canada, seeing that the other three had came, and slightly proud of himself for lasting the longest, finally let himself go, not thinking until after he had released with a cry that maybe it would have been kinder for him to use a condom. It was a little late for that however, and he pulled out, letting himself collapse next to the equally exhausted Englishman, who fell fully onto the bed as Canada released his hips.

France smiled to himself, observing the scene and stroking England's hair comfortingly as the nation drifted off. From his shirt pocket, he retrieved the key for the handcuffs, knowing they weren't made from extended wear. Canada and England could sleep for now, it was only fair that since the whole event was his idea that he should face the American on his own.

 

* * *

 

 

England awoke suddenly as the bed disappeared from underneath him, noticing after a moment of drowsy confusion that he had been picked up and placed over a shoulder – America's, presumably.

Glancing around wearily, he noticed Canada fully dressed and sitting across the room, and upon shifting awkwardly to examine himself, he found that he too had been redressed and uncuffed. France, who was nursing a reddening jaw (good, thought England), noticed the Brit's stare. He gave England thumbs up and winked, sniggering slightly as the bewildered nation was whisked out of the room by the American whose shoulder he was draped across.

Passing a confused looking Germany in the hall, who England was forced to smile at apologetically from his uncomfortable position when America barged straight into the surprised nation, England soon found himself at America's own hotel room, relieved to be let off America's shoulder (he was getting rather dizzy) and dumped onto the American's own bed.

Expecting to face an angered American, England braced himself, but he was surprised to find America crouching down in front of him, looking apologetic.

“I'm really sorry, England,” America frowned guiltily, “I've put you through a lot recently, and I shouldn't have been treating you the way I have been. I don't own you, and I shouldn't have been acting like I do,”

England was a little confused by the attitude change, but figured that France and America must have had a chat whilst he was asleep.

“I – um, that's okay, thank you,” England muttered, feeling a little awkward after what had just taken place.

America seemed relieved as his apology was accepted.

“So...what just happened...you're not angry?” England said after a moment's silence, nervous to bring up the event but not wanting unreleased emotions getting between them at any point in the future.

“Nah, not really,” America shrugged, standing up and sitting on the bed next to England, “I mean, I was at first, but once I started getting into it, I realised it wasn't so bad after all,” he grinned as England flushed, “also, the talk I had with France afterwards helped me realise how unfair I was being to you, so I guess almost everything has worked itself out now,”

“Almost everything?” England questioned, wondering what was left to sort out and looking confused as America turned to face him directly.

“Yeah, almost everything,” America took England's hands in his own, taking in a deep breath. “England, I really, really love you, like, romantically, and I should have told you long ago and saved a lot of hassle for everyone, I know, but please, can we put the last few weeks behind us and start...ya know...dating?”

England let out the breath he had been holding, not sure what he had been expecting America to say, having completely forgotten the ultimate aim of France's plan. He was relieved though at what he heard.

“America,” England paused, looking up to face the American, “I love you to, you stupid git, and yes, I want to date you,” England almost laughed at America's delighted expression, and at his own stupidity and blindness to America's feelings, “and I'm sorry for not telling you earlier too, you're not the only one at fault,”

America grinned wildly, and England jumped when he felt a hand fist the hair at the back of his head. He found himself suddenly pulled forward, pressed against America's chest. Looking up into the eyes of his now-boyfriend, England knew what was coming, and he closed his eyes, relaxing as America leaned in, taking full control of the kiss he initiated. America was clearly no experienced kisser, but England found little to complain about, and he let the kiss continue until he thought his lungs would burst. Pushing America away slightly, England gasped for breath, looking up to see America smiling back at him happily.

Embarrassed by how easily he lost himself, England sat up quickly and looked away. “N-now we've sorted that out, I would like to go back to sleep, if you don't mind, considering how rudely I was awoken,” England forced himself to feign irritation, though really, he felt rather giddy and excited.

“Of course, of course,” America seemed amused, “but only if you agree to sleep here,” he grinned, pulling England back into his arms.

England growled, but didn't pull away. “I don't know where else you thought I wanted to sleep,” he mumbled, flopping back onto the bed and pulling America with him. “Now goodnight, git,”

America's mood brightened further, and he pulled England against him tightly. “Night, England,” he replied, not sounding tired in the slightest, but willing to lie there with England asleep in his arms anyway.

They would both have to thank France in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an extra note, handcuffs really aren't made for extended wear, especially during sex. I found out after writing this (from some general reading I was doing) that they can cause nerve damage, and I don't want to encourage unsafe play or anything, so be careful in your IRL sexual situations ;)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! And sorry again for the long wait!


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